


To (Love?) Know A Monster

by Bennyhatter



Series: My Monster [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Animalistic, Apocalypse, Begging, Biting, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Dystopia, Feral Behavior, Forced Orgasm, Grooming, Hint of sweetness if you squint, Infection, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Mutation, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scratching, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: It's impossible to hide any reactions from a creature whose senses far surpass his own. Every little twitch and stifled gasp may as well be a lurch or a shout to Kour, as cliché as that sounds even in his head. It doesn't take long for his blood to heat, not anymore; not after four years of close quarters, and little grooming rituals like this one. Not when he's pressed firmly against rough-soft terrycloth by someone strong and powerful, and fully capable of keeping him sheltered and protected, even if the methods are violent and bloody.





	To (Love?) Know A Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, look, more monster stuff!
> 
> This is set in the same universe as the last fic, in case it wasn't clear. :3 I'm currently working on a prequel of sorts to it all, but, well... The boys demanded "time." So, I gave them some?
> 
> Not much to say about this one. The tags kind of explain it all.
> 
> Don't hurt me I'm a delicate boy ;__;

They're well-established in their routine by now. Elijah hasn't set foot inside a house with running water in over four years, but there's more than enough lakes and streams dotted across North America. After the initial shock of cold, it's kind of like skinny-dipping.

"C'mon, Kour," he coaxes, already naked and standing in water that comes up to his waist. He can feel the ticklish flit of fish against his calves, but he's more focused on Kour. The creature paces back and forth, growling quietly.

This, too, is routine.

"Come on," he says again, gentle and sweet; lifts a hand out of the water and reaches toward the man watching him with eyes that have, over time, become more red than brown. "The quicker you do it, the quicker you can get back out."

Chuffing, Kour kicks his way out of his filthy pants and stomps into the pond, somehow managing to make it all look so graceful despite his obvious displeasure. As soon as he's close enough, Elijah lifts the washcloth he's kept clenched in his other hand and quickly gets to work.

Between the two of them, his companion definitely gets far more filthy. Between the animals he hunts and the people he kills to keep Elijah safe, he's almost always matted with blood and viscera unless Elijah can get him to hold still long enough to wipe him down. Even then, he's typically more filth than anything else, which is why they take advantage of any body of water they find that's large enough to bathe in.

"Eyes," Elijah murmurs, being as careful as he can. Kour growls, but closes his eyes long enough for his face to be washed before letting them slit open. They're dark and hooded, fixed on Elijah as he works diligently. He watches the creature's nostrils flare as he breathes in; feels the brush of Kour's chest against his arm as it rises and tries not to shiver. This never feels any less intimate, no matter how many times it's happened. Kour is broad and stocky, without an extra scrap of fat on him and an impressive amount of muscle. His face is roguish and handsome, his jaw strong and his lips _ pretty, _ as strange as that thought is considering the beast in front of him. Even Kour's fangs add to his overall sense of feral, alluring danger. He's a wolf you can never be fully comfortable around; shaggy and wild, and able to smell any hint of weakness on his prey.

"Duck," Elijah says quietly, and Kour crouches without any apparent discomfort so that Elijah can begin working the tangles out of his hair. Dawn isn't the greatest shampoo, but it's better than nothing, and _ hopefully _ less likely to completely fuck up the environment. Civilization may very well be dead and buried, but it's been buried beneath a nature left to thrive without humanity to contain it.

A broad hand wraps around the front of his thigh, claws brushing dangerously close to the crease where his thigh meets his ass. Elijah shudders at the blatantly possessive touch but doesn't stray from his task. It became just another part of their routine a long time ago. Kour is a dominant creature, both in presence and personality. He's aggressive and assertive, putting Elijah exactly where he wants him but never actually _ hurting _ him. He demands obedience with a look, and Elijah, God fucking help him, is too far down the rabbit hole to even try and resist anymore.

Even if he did, they both know there wouldn't be any real effort involved.

Kour squeezes, his rumble low and pleased. Elijah knows there's going to be bruises later, dark smudges that will join the other fading marks littered across his skin; they won't be the only ones he gets today. Bathing means washing away Kour's scent, and that does not make the beast happy at all, but at least _ he's _ cleaner, for however long it will last.

Once he can get his fingers through the creature's hair without them snagging, he smiles. "Rinse," he whispers, stepping back so Kour can duck under the surface and paw the suds from his hair. He comes back up quickly, water running in clean rivulets down his face and torso. His hair is white again, no longer matted down by dirt and dried blood. Like this, it covers his eyes and touches the apples of his cheeks; covers his ears and stops just at the top of his shoulder blades. It will fluff up into ridiculous tufts once it's dry, but Elijah might have to cut it soon regardless, before his monster gets irritated by it blocking his line of sight.

He's quick to scrub himself down, a feat that takes practically no time at all considering how clean he usually keeps himself. As soon as he's rinsed the Dawn from his hair, he lets himself be bullied back up onto the shore and onto the large towels he'd laid out in advance.

Once Elijah has stretched himself out across one, Kour straddles his legs just below his ass and drags his broad, rough tongue up Elijah's spine. He sighs at the pleasurable scrape, shivering from that and the cool breeze that blows across his wet skin. Kour keeps him pinned beneath his powerful thighs, his cock soft where its nestled against the crease between his asscheeks. One hand curls around the swell of Elijah's shoulder, keeping him exactly where he is while Kour licks him dry in long strokes, the grooming tinged with a dark possessiveness that Elijah has become entirely used to. He lays his head on his folded arms, feeling every subtle, harmless rock and press as Kour twists and moves to cover every inch of Elijah with his scent. Kour bites at the nape of his neck, hard enough to hurt and bruise but not enough to bleed, and Elijah whines quietly into the crook of his elbow.

It's impossible to hide any reactions from a creature whose senses far surpass his own. Every little twitch and stifled gasp may as well be a lurch or a shout to Kour, as cliché as that sounds even in his head. It doesn't take long for his blood to heat, not anymore; not after a little over two years of close quarters, and little grooming rituals like this one. Not when he's pressed firmly against rough-soft terrycloth by someone strong and powerful, and fully capable of keeping him sheltered and protected, even if the methods are violent and bloody.

It's a primal response, something from deep in his hindbrain that civilization locked down and blocked out centuries ago, when Man forgot what it was like to be feral and afraid. Back in the days when strength and savagery were their own courting rituals; where Man proved his merit by hunting and providing for his mate. By killing any threat that sought to take what he had claimed. Society made humans soft, it made them forget, but in this new world, where every breath carries the potential of death, those old instincts have roared back to life.

"Kour," he whispers helplessly, fingers twisting into the dark gray towel and tugging. His hips hitch up, pulling his sensitive cock away from the too-rough friction; rubbing back against the monster straddling his thighs, the hot line of Kour's cock no longer quite so uninterested. Elijah can't even imagine what he must smell like right now. Pond water, soap, and sweat, all mixed with a growing need that makes his stomach cramp and his skin shiver?

Sharp, thick teeth press against the top knob of his spine, Kour's mouth opened wide against his nape. He can feel every hot puff of breath and distracting flick of tongue; he whines and tilts his head forward, offering up everything. Submitting the way a creature like Kour, a dominant and violent Alpha-type personality -- a man-made monster that can no longer be considered a man himself -- _ craves. _

Kour has done unspeakable things, but he's kept Elijah _ safe, _ and his monster has never once tried to hurt him, even though he knows that one day, Kour will more than likely kill him. It shouldn't send such a thrill through him, but it does, and Elijah supposes that says enough about what the world has turned him into. So he rolls his shoulders forward and lifts his lips higher, groaning quietly when Kour shifts back to watch. Those deadly teeth scrape against his skin as they pull away, stinging and making him gasp, and that just twists him up even further.

Putting his weight on his shoulders and his arms, Elijah presents himself properly, his cock hanging heavy and already dripping between his legs. It's hard to find a moment for pleasure when you live with a creature that can smell even the most subtle scent shift on the wind; it's no wonder he already feels so desperate, his thighs shaking and his core muscles clenching as he rocks forward against empty air.

"Kou- _ ah!." _ The first lick takes him by surprise, Kour's face pressing against his ass, nose buried between his cheeks and tongue flicking against his hole. Elijah jerks away from the teeth pressing into his fragile skin, shaking from head to toe and faintly mortified by how hard he is. Kour growls, a low sound filled with warning, and drags him back by his hips. Claws dig into his skin, hard enough to make him whimper but not enough to draw blood. When he licks again, a firm drag of his tongue, Elijah pants against his own knuckles and feels saliva leak from the corner of his open mouth.

Whatever he smells like must please his monster, because Kour rumbles deeply and licks him again, and then _ again. _ It's like being groomed, but wholly different, because with each drag of his tongue he presses his luck a little further, until Elijah can feel the exact second he changes his angle, the tip of Kour's tongue working past the tight, clenching muscles of his rim. He claws desperately at the dirt beneath him, barely even aware that he's shifted the towel that much.

"Kour, Kour, _ ah, _please!"

He's not a virgin, not by any means, but no one had ever done this to him -- not that Elijah ever had many partners. He was a shy, quiet thing long before everything went to hell, choosing to keep to himself and rarely straying from his comfort zone.

"Kour!"

Dark claws drag almost teasingly over the arches of his hips, leaving thin red lines that sting in a way that only heightens his pleasure. He's leaking to an embarrassing degree, his cock quivering and his balls drawing up; he feels like he's on the edge of an orgasm, and they've barely even done anything.

"Uh, uh, uh," he whines, each little gasp punched out of him with the thrust and twist of Kour's tongue. He's being tongue-fucked, there's no other way to put it, and it feels amazing but he still _ aches. _ "Mnn -- Kour -- _ hnngh, _ wait, please, wait-!"

Kour snarls when he tries to pull away, slamming him down and biting roughly at his shoulder, and Elijah comes with a shamed, broken cry. He sobs through each throb, cum splattering across his abdomen and the towel; more than he was expecting, though it has been a _ while. _ He's whimpering by the end, tears dripping down his cheeks. Kour's teeth are still digging into him, beads of dark red welling around the stretched-thin corners of the beast's mouth.

"I wasn't trying to run away," he rasps, his chest aching from his rough, uneven breathing. "I wasn't, Kour, I swear." Kour growls into his damaged skin but lets go, licking the wound tenderly, as if he wasn't the cause of it. Elijah lets him, still shuddering through the aftershocks of pleasure and pain and confusion. "I need to get to my bag, okay? There's… I need what's in it. I won't run away. I promise."

Kour lets him go, but he follows Elijah as he crawls, looking far more sinuous and predatory. Elijah knows he must look like a fucked-out mess, between the tears on his face and the cum cooling on his skin and the dirt on his hands. If this was a movie, he'd be the unlucky protagonist, the one face down in the dirt getting fucked by his inevitable murderer after everyone he loved was killed. He shouldn't want it, he should be screaming and begging for help, but instead Elijah is fumbling for a bottle of lubricant he stole from a Walmart months ago. It's barely been used -- when has he had the _ time _ \-- but that's probably a good thing. It's been years, and Kour is far from lacking in size; frankly, the more lubricant, the better.

"Let me," Elijah says quietly, crawling awkwardly back to the towels. He tries to fix them, smoothing them back out, but he knows it's not going to matter much soon. Kour will tear them to ribbons if he feels like it, regardless of what Elijah asks.

At least it'll be easy to find more.

Back in the center of the towel, Elijah braces himself on his knees; pops the cap of the lube open and squeezes way too much out onto his fingers and palm. Kour is watching him intently, already ripping holes in the towel with each flex and drag of his fingers. Shuddering, Elijah drops back down onto his chest and shoulders, shuts his eyes tightly, and twists two fingers into his soft, twitching hole.

_ Fuck. _

He gasps at the feeling, unfamiliar after all this time but still _ good, _ even with the sting and burn. Kour did a good job getting his muscles to relax, but he knows he'll still need to take his time. The excess lube helps, even if the wet squelch makes him burn with desire and humiliation. He knows his cheeks are bright red, so he shuts his eyes and bites his lip until Kour rubs his rough cheek against Elijah's hip, like a lion giving affection. He shudders, clenching around his curling fingers and relaxing again; wet and soft and burning inside, desire heating his blood until he feels breathless.

The third finger makes him gasp, sinking in almost too easily despite the stretch. He bites his knuckles, trying not to moan too loudly because they're still out in the open, and he's made enough of a harlot of himself already.

Kour doesn't seem to agree. He feels his monster move, and then suddenly his hips are being pushed up by a thick shoulder, a hot tongue lapping at the side of his dick. Elijah yelps, scrambling to keep his balance while Kour pushes farther underneath him to clean the dripping tip of his cock. A broad palm grips his hip hard enough to bruise, keeping him right where the creature wants him; Elijah can't decide between bucking into Kour's hot mouth or grinding back against his own fingers.

"Kour," he begs, without any idea what he's pleading for. He's up to four fingers now, his hole sloppy with lube, each thrust loud and obscene. He's so full and so empty at the same time, his fingers just not long enough to hit where he needs them. "Kour, Kour, please."

Kour sucks at his dick, his fangs a very real threat that somehow never touch Elijah's skin, and then he's moving again. Elijah drops heavily onto his knees, over half his hand buried in his ass, his thumb tucked up against his quivering rim. He nudges it in alongside the others, mouth open in a soundless cry that stutters to life as a gasp when Kour's teeth close around his wrist and pinch.

_ Get it out. _

The creature doesn't need to speak to convey what he wants, not like this, and Elijah hastens to comply. As soon as his hand his out of the way, Kour is up against him, hips hunching and bucking with no finesse as his monster mounts him. Elijah tries to reach back and guide him, his hand slick and dripping, but Kour snarls and bites at his nape. He's quick to tuck his hand back under his chest, his hips raised as high as they'll go and tilted to make it easier for Kour's cock to drag over his hole again and again until the head finally catches and sinks in.

Kour doesn't go slowly.

Elijah whines at the punishing pace, trying his best to brace himself to keep from sliding with every powerful slam. Kour is like an animal driven to mate, each thrust quick and getting him brutally deep. His arms lock around Elijah's sides, keeping him exactly where his monster wants him as he takes his pleasure.

"K-Kour, _ hnngh, please, please!" _

The creature snarls triumphantly against his nape, slamming in one last time. Elijah can _ feel _ the cum filling him, leaving him even more sloppy as Kour's bucks grind it deeper inside him. He's so hard it hurts, oversensitized and gasping out wet, meaningless gibberish.

When Kour starts to fuck him again, he's pretty sure he screams. It's too much, _ too much, _ but Elijah can't remember how to do anything but gasp and beg, cum and lube dripping from his balls and down his thighs. It _ hurts, _ but it feels so good, everything twisted into something that's fucked up beyond all reason, and still Elijah begs. Kour is slamming across his prostate, too animal to aim, but he's still winding Elijah tighter and tighter until he shatters with a howl, streaking cum across the towels and sobbing as the pleasure edges more into pain.

Kour bites his shoulder, right next to the first mark -- catching half of his neck with a dark, pleased rumble. They're plastered together, the creature's chest pressed against his shoulder blades; Kour's abdomen against his back and their hips nearly fused thanks to Kour's attempts to grind impossibly deeper. He's coming again, Elijah can feel it. It's an uncomfortable pressure, one that presses against his bladder until he can't control himself.

He sobs through it, burying his face in the towels and bawling as urine splashes against his thighs and fills the air with an unmistakable stretch. He's never peed during sex -- he hasn't pissed in front of anyone since he learned how to use the bathroom on his own.

"Why?" he whispers, mortified and desperate to crawl away and hide his shame. As soon as he goes to pull away, Kour snarls and bites down harder, starting to rock his hips again. "No," Elijah gasps. "No, Kour, it _ hurts. _ Please, let me go, _ please." _

His monster growls, pinning him again, and Elijah moans pitifully. His please break off into ragged whimpers and half-words, his knees sore from holding their weight and dragging across terrycloth. There's no escaping the intensity this time. He can feel the drag of Kour's cock in and out of him, twitching violently every time it grinds across his prostate. Each slap of their hips makes him shudder and keen; even that is starting to hurt. His fingers cramp from clutching the towel so hard, but he can't make himself let go. He's sobbing, his dick twitching between his legs; he's limp, but still somehow leaking. A dry orgasm makes his muscles lock, his spine arching in a painful curve that pushes Kour up as well.

"Please," he croaks uselessly, slumping bonelessly. His hips are still raised thanks to Kour; Elijah is little more than a moaning rag doll at this point, tears leaking from his sore eyes. His chin is red and raw, and he's sure he's got the equivalent of rugburn on his arms.

Kour thrusts hard one last time, biting at his nape again; Elijah is going to have to go on a bandage raid after this just to make sure he's properly patched up. He closes his eyes, praying for it to be over this time. If it's not, he's not going to be able to stay conscious.

Thankfully, his prayers are answered. He feels Kour pull out, sobbing dryly at the painful sting of it -- even with the amount of lube and cum pouring out of him, it fucking _ hurts. _ Before he can crawl away though, he feels his monster's cheek rubbing against his ass, something not unlike a purr rumbling from deep in his chest. It feels _ weird, _ but it relaxes his spasming muscles.

When Kour starts to lick him clean, Elijah can't even find the energy to protest. It feels nice, at least, much softer than the violent fucking, even if he had asked for that. If that's what it's going to be like every time, he's not going to last; he will literally die from being fucked.

Elijah giggles, only slightly hysterical at the thought. It relaxes into a quiet hum quickly enough, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels Kour's tongue drag through the mixture of fluids down his thighs, licking it all away until he's clean and damp. If his monster dislikes the taste, or finds any of it disgusting, he doesn't show it.

Big, violent hands roll him gently, and Elijah doesn't put up a fight. He's surprised when Kour pulls him away from the ruined towel, kneading and pushing at the cleaner one until Elijah is as bundled up as he can be. He blinks slowly, exhaustion dragging at him. Kour is cleaning his chest and belly now, still making that weird rumble-purr sound as he works. It's a struggle to even move his hands, but finally, Elijah manages to run his sore, shaking fingers through his monster's hair.

"You'll be the death of me, one day," he rasps. Kour looks up at him, his eyes dark and satisfied. Possessive. He licks Elijah's fingers, nipping at them surprisingly gently and nosing at his palm. He strokes the beast's temples, sighing, and lets his hand drop back to the ground.

"We're gonna hafta bathe again," he slurs. "In a minute. S'filthy."

Something thick and soft covers him, and he barely recognizes that it's his blanket before he's asleep. The last thing he's aware of is Kour's head resting on his hip, clawed fingers curling around his knee as his monster purrs.


End file.
